


to any semblance of touch

by vaudelin



Series: Tumblr fic [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Likes It Rough, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: Castiel chanced a look along the bench seat, to where Dean had propped one knee roughly against the dashboard, the other splayed open around the unzipped fly of his jeans. Between Dean’s rhythmic panting and the crooked angle of his wrist between his legs, Castiel had little to imagine regarding what Dean’s fingers were busy doing.





	to any semblance of touch

“C’mon, Cas—c’mon…” Dean mumbled, his words growing muffled as he buried his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck.

Castiel tightened his grip on the steering wheel, straining to keep from leaning into Dean’s touch. The blind need for physical sensation ebbed through him too, though not nearly as strong an impulse as it was in Dean.

“Twenty minutes to the bunker,” Castiel murmured into the crown of Dean’s head, confirming the estimate with a glance at the clock radio. Too long; they won’t make it. Regardless, Castiel pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator, flexing the Impala’s speedometer.

Dean groaned in response, so close to Castiel that he had already clambered partway into Castiel’s lap, only the annoyance of the steering column keeping them apart.

“Won’t make it,” Dean panted, his teeth grazing the column of Castiel’s throat, the heat of his breath seeping through Castiel’s collar. His hand dragged upward along Castiel’s inseam, his nails scratching over thigh meat the closer he came to his goal.

Castiel shivered, his grip on the wheel nearly lost as the impulse to hold Dean overtook him, the desire to press down on the heel of Dean’s palm nearly overcoming what little wits Castiel had left. Gathering the remainder of his self-control, he hooked an arm between them and shoved Dean roughly away.

"Dean," Castiel growled. “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

Dean's resulting moan suggested that wouldn't be a terrible outcome. Castiel pumped the pedal harder in response.

The miles seemed to inch along despite the reckless pace they were setting. Castiel’s mind felt overrun with the catalog of symptoms currently harbored in his vessel: the rapidity of his heartbeat; the sweat gathering on his overheated skin; the gentle tremors that had entered his limbs, his body so flushed with desire for Dean that he could barely restrain himself.

Castiel chanced a look along the bench seat, to where Dean had propped one knee roughly against the dashboard, the other splayed open around the unzipped fly of his jeans. Between Dean’s rhythmic panting and the crooked angle of his wrist between his legs, Castiel had little to imagine regarding what Dean’s fingers were busy doing.

“C’mon, Cas, c’mon—” Dean was chanting again, his eyes closed and his head tilted back. His lips shone wetly on the makeshift prayer.

Jealousy throbbed through Castiel, so strong it nearly wrenched them off the road. He regained control long enough to pull them over, slamming the brakes at the first available approach. Fumbling at his seat belt, Castiel clawed himself free and slid across the narrow gap between them, his hand fitting roughly over Dean’s.

“Let me,” Castiel mumbled, a ghost against Dean’s mouth. Dean’s lips parted around a sob. His arm flew around Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him in and swallowing him whole.

It took little time for Dean to make room for Castiel atop him, to push off Castiel’s clothes and unzip Castiel’s fly and fit their cocks together. Castiel nipped at Dean’s bottom lip, suckled bruises into the bolt of his jaw. Dean moaned loudly until Castiel stuck two fingers into his mouth and dragged them out sopping wet. Castiel chased the gap they left with a breathless kiss, tongue laving at Dean’s teeth.

“Need you,” Dean kept breathing into Castiel, too soon to be ready despite how frantically his wrist kept flexing. Castiel pressed his fingers in alongside Dean’s, crooking them until Dean’s voice broke around a wet sob. _Hurry, c’mon, please_ , Dean kept telling him, gripping Castiel’s hips and rocking against him, Castiel landing with these heady thuds that left Dean shuddering and scarcely satisfied.

Castiel held onto himself as long as he could, aligning himself so painfully slowly that his entire body ached with the need to sink forward, to claim that solid heat his fingers were chasing. He restrained himself even as Dean urged him on, his thighs flexing, his heels digging into the small of Castiel’s back. The slide in was surely uncomfortable, though Dean’s pleasured sighs showed no signs of it. Castiel soothed his thrusts with a gentle flow of grace, and with an increasing pace he took to pulling Dean apart breath by breath.

“I’ve got you,” Castiel murmured, their brows touching. “I’ve got you.”

“So glad it’s you,” Dean moaned, rolling his hips to meet Castiel’s thrusts.

Sweat built between them, slicking their grip on each other. Castiel tightened his hold on Dean, fitting his hands around Dean’s waist. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel in answer, his hand loosely curving around Castiel’s head, tucking his mouth down against Dean’s neck.

Castiel grazed his teeth along the taut muscle there, earning a deep groan from Dean and renewed fervor, his thrusts growing sloppy as he approached his crest.

“Cas, I’m gonna—” Dean managed, just as a guttural moan hit and Castiel’s hips snapped roughly forward, his body buried inside Dean as deeply as it could. Dean held him tight as they rocked their way through orgasm, Dean making breathy noises against Castiel’s cheek that hardly counted as kisses.

“You alright?” Castiel asked, once the strength of it seemed to have ebbed.

Dean made a show of grimacing at the mess adorning his chest. “You weren’t kidding about the not-walking thing, huh.”

Castiel paled, making room for Dean to straighten his legs. “Are you—?” he began, reaching toward Dean with two fingers extended.

“‘M fine,” Dean assured, swatting his hand aside, “it’s fine. The good kind of ache.”

“Oh.”

“Cas, it’s alright. _Good_ , even.” Dean sighed, scrubbing at his face. Into his palm, he mumbled, “Maybe even worth doing again.”

Castiel noted the pink sheen to Dean’s cheekbones, a color he couldn’t place solely on their recent exertion. He smiled. “I would like that too.”

Dean glanced to him, more vulnerable than he likely wanted to be. Castiel looked back with all the warmth he felt for Dean, assuring him as best he could.

“Alright, c’mon.” Dean tapped his knuckles against Castiel’s side. “Get dressed. We got about twenty miles to figure out how to explain to Sam how the cursed relic’s gone and the car now reeks of sex.”

“You don’t want him to know that we broke it—“

“Later,” Dean said, hastily pulling up his jeans. “Don’t need to shellshock him all at once, just … later.”

Castiel nodded, though he doubted Sam would be as surprised as Dean thought.

**Author's Note:**

> for the [tumblr prompt](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/post/184376683938/98): _“If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week.”_


End file.
